Truthful Lies
by imaginationstarie13
Summary: DISCONTINUED Seven years mark the difference of then and now. Addictions to truth and revenge have marked the difference of one of the top Assassins, Truthful Rook, from a teenage boy who was once simply Joe Hardy. Corresponding story to Lying Truth
1. Chapter 1

Hello people! Welcome to my twisted stories! Before I allow you a peak, I ask that you read these next notes:

First off, this is a sequel part to Snake, which is part I of my Assassins series. HOWEVER, it does not mean that you have to read it. In fact, I'll be trying to summurize what happened in their in here. That way, you know the crucial parts. If you have the time, I wouldn't mind if you read the other three stories (titles and order are somewhere in my bio). But, like I said, if you don't want to, don't.

Second of all, if you saw the summary, there is mention of a corresponding story that I'm posting at the same time (in this case, it's Lying Truths). There is a reason why they are not combinded into one story: each brother gets a specific story. Reasons for that are, while there are some scenes that will be the same, each brother has their own perspective in it. As in, if Frank is enjoying something, Joe might be getting really sick. Also, there are a lot of times where they are split up and have different experiences. Each experience and perspective are there own and I feel should not be mashed together. Therefore, the split. You can read each separatly, just know that there are different bits of info in one that is not in the other, like conversations or secrets, and I will post a chapter to each at the same time. So expect long delays.

Finally, I do not own the Hardy Boys. With things like this fanfic, I've been told it's for a good reason.

So, come and enter Joe's story and enjoy!

* * *

He entered the house after the older man, trying to keep his thoughts to himself. A wrong word and he would mess everything up. Once again in his life, the young man wished that he possessed his brother's confidence and calmness. Even if it was an illusion to himself, he figured he would have felt much better about tonight.

However, as he had known for years, he could not lie, even to himself. That ability had been erased years ago, and it was to be a permanent disappearance.

"So, are you working on a case?" his host asked as he was led into the kitchen.

Something inside of him sighed. He was chosen to deal with this man because he spoke in truths, which was a better way to go. After all, unlike the unlucky one who had to deal with Lies, this man knew of the current state of the family. Twisted truths went farther than forced lies.

"You can call it that." It was technically a mission to extort information from a target before killing him, but that was minor details. The use of the word "case" summed it up very nicely.

"What exactly do you need to know from me, Joe?"

Now he felt like grimmacing when he heard the name. At least he was schooled enough to keep his expressions in checked. Deciding to ignore the name, the young man replied with some of the facts. "My brother and I lost our house to an explosion. We pretty much lost all contact with our father after that. We're still trying to track him down."

The older man, for his part, managed to appear worried on the outside with some attempt at what one would guess as pity. However, if the young man compared it to the way his brother could pull such things off, it was no contest of who was better.

"That's terrible. What about Laura?"

He wasn't able to stop the frown or the sadness in his eyes at the mention of his mother. If she hadn't told him what she did seven years ago, he was sure that he would have ran out of the house (or at least the room) instead of following through. He had promised her to do that much, after all.

"She's gone." With that, he slipped the dagger out of the sheath that was tucked within the waistband of his jeans and presses the blade into the man's stomach.

His host tried to sream, but he was not a top Assassin member for nothing. With his free hand, he muffled the cries while using his body's weight to subdue the man against the countertop.

As the target slipped down, the killer allowed himself a smirk. Taking out a small glass vial, he backed up just enough so the dying man could see his whole face.

"Let's get on with this, shall we? You have been helping the Network dig up things about the Assassins. And not just the past ones that we got the name from. In fact, you happened to be actively securing information about this generation. Almost killed Whisper with one of your stupid investigations. She told me to get back at you, by the way."

The man just stared at the Assassin, as if he wasn't able to comprehend what was just said to him.

"Oh, and about calling me Joe during this time we get to spend together? I would prefer that you use my real name. It's not legally recognized, but I like it a lot better."

This earned him a glare.

"Well, since you obviously don't know what it is, I'll tell you." He cleared his throat in a dramatic way to ensure that the suffering would drag on for a bit. "It's Truthful Rook. Or just Truth for short."

This got him the man's full attention. Of course, the killer wasn't at all surprised at the sudden shock that graced the victim's face. Truthful Rook was a top Assassin member who could have been easily identified as the murderer in a few dozen cases, and loosely tied to quite a few more. Joseph Hardy was only known to be on the Assassins for unknown reasons. A connection between such figures would no doubt boggle the minds of the psychologists the Network had employed.

"So you have heard of me! Good. So you should realize who my brother and I have tortured. And yes, for future reference, my brother is Lying Rook."

If possible, the dying man pales further. Truth felt like frowning because of it. Once again, Lies had out shone him in the torture department as well as in messy deaths (when he actually felt like being messy, which was becoming more and more often). Not that he had expected any different, but it was still something he had to live with.

It was still fun to attempt to compete, however.

"So, where would you like to start?"

* * *

**7 Years Ago**

Joe Hardy slipped into his brother's room quietly, making sure not to wake Frank up. Or interrupt his meditation/thinking period. He couldn't tell the difference sometimes, and was beginning to suspect they were merging into the same thing where it concerned his brother.

Things have changed, and if was honest with himself (as he has been for the past few months), they were not the best things to happen to the family.

The blond could not pick a moment where the downward descent into this madness began. It was noticeable when he prevented Frank's suicide by threatening his own. His mind fell back into the darkened room that he had entered that fateful night a few years ago. The cold, metallic shine of the knife against the moonlight was still haunting him. But he had been quite serious about dying alongside his brother then. He always had been, always will be.

Frank's supposed death had hit him very hard. It was harder still when Joe found out his brother had not only faked his death, but had developed a split personality that had easily killed corrupt ATAC people. The word that Snake (as the personality had dubbed himself) had used was "cleansing" which Joe could not blame him for. Those vile people had gone so far to not only steal, but to rape and kill the teenage agents at their whim.

It had taken longer still to join his brother in his work of killing men. He understood, logically, the security issues capturing these men with one of the greatest secrets of crime fighting, not to mention the strain of men in the FBI since a new generation of the Assassins had popped up and started killing. But to take a man's life with his own hands…

Somehow, the sickness that snuck into his stomach melted away after time.

He then proceeded to fake his own death while Jackie (another girl dragged into a program that made Frank snap in the first place) kidnapped Laura Hardy, which was actually a ruse while placing her under protection. Fenton…

Fenton, after all that had been explained, still hated all of the children.

He hated Frank and Jackie for agreeing to try the training program that would teach them about weapons. He hated Frank when it turned out he was becoming a killer.

Fenton hated Frank for supposedly dragging Joe into the other side of justice.

If someone told the man that his neglect for his children's emotional well being that a father was supposed to fill by paying more attention to his private eye work, he would shift the blame onto Laura or Frank and Joe themselves. Heaven forbid something trivial like a family ruin his reputation, even after he retired.

Joe slid against the wall until he was sitting on the floor. He admitted to himself that it could have been partly a misunderstanding between them. After all, what father wouldn't be upset to know that his star children had stolen lives at the age of fifteen and sixteen? But damn him to hell if he wasn't going to understand his indirect push into such a position.

"I care for him. Joe means nothing to me."

Frank's words washed over him. Joe couldn't help but crack a grin at the words. While Joe had taken it upon himself to only speak the truth (and abandoning even sarcasm in favor of half truths and twisted perceptions that fitted the situations), Frank had become addicted to lying all that he could. Of course, he couldn't lie every single second that he wanted to, but he was definitely trying to get in every lie he could.

"Love you too," the blond said back to complete the morning ritual. He didn't bother questioning who the "him" was referring to. He already knew. "Let's get breakfast. We have to finish fixing up the computer things later."

"I'm starving." Frank's hollow laughter made Joe frown. It worried him sometimes, especially when it indicated…

"How the hell were you able to sneak a revolver into here without someone else finding out-"

"I haven't touched one since we've gotten here, Joe. What are you trying to imply?"

"That you're a completely different person than who you were before this mess happened." Joe sighed and, using the wall as leverage, got up. Thoughts skidded across his mind as he tried to recall the teenager that Frank had been before he became a killer. However, those memories were fading and those that he did remember didn't seem to match his brother at all. At least, they didn't match any more. "You're still my brother and I love you."

"You were never my brother."

The blond rolled his eyes. "I'll let Jackie deal with you with her sarcasm later." Walking to the door, he slipped out. He walked past his mother, who was heading for Frank's door to probably watch his actions. Fenton had done the same with a criticizing eye, but Laura was concerned with their well being. She didn't judge as hard, despite the pain that she visibly revealed when they did think about it.

Joe knew the pain she would feel when she saw Frank playing Russian roulette with the revolver that Snake had left. He had been in the same position quite a few times, and the pain had only begun to dull.

He guessed he should be thankful for the recent changes. The move that ATAC had forced them into due to the faked deaths of Frank, Jackie, and Joe (it would be too much compromise to security for the moment to reveal that they were alive). It took time to create records of faked movements, so what were another few months? Of course, they had realized what was more months could be longer due to more internal issues that still had to be swept up (Jackie added that it would probably go under the rug) and figured a complete move might be beneficial to the family.

Joe refused to admit that it would help. After all, he had saw and heard what his father said about them. And, if it was true that old habits die really hard, it would probably take the rest of their lives for him to change this attitude.

He met Jackie in the kitchen. The adopted sister was scanning through the papers for some unknown article. If the teenage boy had to guess, it was probably something to do with medical discoveries or updates. The girl wasn't intelligent in biochemistry for nothing.

She didn't look up. Instead, while scanning one piece with her fingers, she asked, "What makes this Frank like your past Frank?"

He groaned. Jackie was one of the few people to ask such questions this early in the morning. The other person was his brother. "Did you hear me or something? At the volume we were speaking at, you couldn't unless you snuck up…"

"I didn't." Her dark eyes looked into his blue ones, lightly piercing his thoughts. "I'm just curious."

"You and your riddles," Joe muttered. "Fine." He took the seat opposite of hers, folded his hands, and rested his head on them. Despite his dramatics, however, he had his answer quite easily stored within his mind. After all, he had asked himself the same question over and over before he fell asleep for nights on end. "No matter what, Frank's willing to do anything for my life."

"Hm." She went back to her article. Joe got up to get the cereal box that sat on the counter. It wasn't his favorite, but he would tolerate it this morning-

"Did you think about the Assassins offer? And how different we would be right now?"

His head shot up to make sure his father wasn't walking down the steps to hear the words. After all, he was one of the people to take the original group down and still held a grudge against them for all the deceitful things they had done. Another generation would probably still bring the same results. "I thought and imagined. I can't help it. But it's a standing offer. We could easily join them whenever we want."

"But would we want to? That's what separates desire from fact."

"We can desire all we want. But fact is, we'll be here for a bit." Looking at her face and reading none of her emotions, Joe sighed in defeat. "I'm waiting for that moment."

"Which moment?"

"I… Fenton Hardy is still my father. I never resented him as much as Frank did, if you want the truth. I still care."

"Genetically, he'll always be your father. But emotionally, he's what? An acquaintance that was once a friend?"

"One that you hope would realize what went wrong and willing to fix it. I'm just waiting for that defining moment."

"What if it never comes?"

"Then I spent enough time reflecting my life and I have to hurry to catch up and learn."

"So you like what you considered."

It wasn't a question, but Joe answered anyways.

"Yes."

* * *

Poor Joe... Then again, considering it's me writing this... hm...


	2. Chapter 2

To be or not to be, Joe? Of course, it's already predetermined since it's technically a flashback...

Also, for anyone who noticed, I changed the addiction from "truth and secrets" to "truth telling and revenge." That came from character reflection of Joe and what he grows into.

I don't own the Hardy Boys, mainly because I do this *points to chapter* to the characters. And since it's a series made for young boys...

Enjoy!

* * *

Truth accepted the bag of Chinese takeout before counting out the exact change needed for payment. He walked out slowly to the car, recalling the corpse that he had left behind. Without a doubt, someone would find the corpse within the next few days. He had moved it himself into a deserted area of the park under some bridge, knowing that the smell would attract attention if it wasn't found sooner. It would earn him another death registered in the Network files of a possible kill by Truthful Rook. He was distinct, on a different scale than those of regular murderers.

He was an Assassin board member and _very_ proud of it.

He popped open the car door, and slipped in with no problems. Placing the food on the passenger seat, he couldn't help but silently muse over the idea of the invasion. He had silently pinned at the idea of one for years, but knew better than to open his mouth. He always needed training. Everyone always needed training. He had known it since the day he saw the killings with his own eyes. So he had waited patiently, attempting to keep his feelings bottled up until the time was right.

The street lights would briefly highlight his face before disappearing behind him. The blue eyes were dulled after years of suffering with the truth of the whole matter of his life, yet they managed to dance under the artificial light as thoughts ran through his head. They ran back to a single, central concentration: Fenton Hardy.

Truth felt like growling at the idea of the PI. He hated to admit that he owed that man anything, but the truth of the matter was that without Fenton, Truth wouldn't be there. In both existence and path of life, the older man had played a part, even if it was in a negative and opposite direction than his intentions.

Truth pulled the car into the parking spot and got out relatively the same way he got in. Giggles had always commented that his sense of balancing, no matter what the situation, was amazing. In response, he had told her that it was either force his body top accept such a feat, for fall off and be killed from the mere height from the recoil of the gun.

He hadn't expected to find Riddle sitting on the bed in the room he and his brother shared, but didn't bother to show the surprise on his face. Of all of the Assassin board members, she was the one who would not worry about getting accidentally killed by a friend. In fact, Truth was sure that she wouldn't have minded too much about being killed.

Of course, there was a difference between not caring and suicidal.

"Did you hear about Forgotten's message?"

"Not if it was a recent one."

"He wants your masks to come off."

Truth swore loudly. "Why would he-"

"Seven years, Truth. What's to be feared?" She slowly got up from her position on the bed. "The man who is unconscious of the world around him, or his ghost?"

"The idea," he admitted. "The idea that he's still there, and could wake up at any moment and ruin more lives."

She chuckled, and disappeared from the room before he was able to ask why.

His mind felt out of his body when the conversation with his brother came up a bit later.

"You knew, didn't you?"

"Knew what?"

"Forgotten sent a message. 'Masks come off.' Ring any bells?"

"No." The smirk on Lies's face suddenly popped up, and Truth knew that the gesture was one of the closest he'll ever get to the man to tell the truth without the preface of defying his nature. This was endearing, yet beyond infuriating.

"Damn it Lies!" He slammed the box of noodles he was eating from onto the table, ignoring the slimy feel as one managed to sneak part way out of the box. "Why?"

"Hiding in masks doesn't change the plan."

The real thing of the matter unfolded in Truth's blue eyes, dulled from the pains and sufferings of that moment years ago. This was more than just a mission. This was symbolic to them both. "It's revenge, isn't it? Them seeing all the people who were supposed to be on their side strikes the kind of fear you love to deal in. And they already know that some of us are involved, just not the extent. Why not make it funnier for us? Besides, we've been eluding them for years, so why not add a challenge?"

"I wasn't thinking that."

"Right." The lie was not lost on him. If anything, this plan was probably replaying in Lies's head as much as it had in Truth's. There was something that the two shared.

"Do you think he's there?" Truth's voice surprised him, after allowing them a few moments of thought and time to eat.

Of course, Lies knew who he was referring to. They always knew. "He's not important. Why would they bother?"

The blue eyed man could feel himself frown. "I was afraid of that. You think he'll change after he wakes up from the coma?"

He wasn't expecting the truth. It wasn't that important for him to force his older brother to change his speech patterns and defy his nature. In fact, Truth was hoping for his brother to lie. He took comfort in this, knowing that it wasn't too severe to things to shift dramatically. And sometimes, that was all he could ask for.

* * *

**7 Years Ago**

Joe let his mind wander as he absentmindedly flicked his lighter on and off. It captivated his eyes as the warm colors flickered in and out of existence, but his thoughts were elsewhere. They had brought him to the mental sight of cold metallic glowing within the moonlight, dancing in his hands…

Killing. This idea had plagued him in the beginning, but had mellowed out as time passed. The question now was how much he should worry about his acceptance.

Of course, he had some level of worrying covered by his mind. The blond had realized that he had gone way beyond his own dreams of his future. Yes, there was likely to be a life or two that he would take while protecting innocents as a field agent or PI or whatever person in law enforcement that he would become. But already, in a few months time, he had taken more than he ever thought he would.

Why?

Joe let the flame disappear once again. He thought about the word that had given him the hope of change.

Redemption.

But as he thought, the more he began to question. After all, how many of the past criminals had he caught that felt no guilt at all? Those lives that they took were only a means to their ends. They didn't care about lives.

This, of course, was in stark contrast to what Fenton Hardy had repeatedly told them: life was a precious gift. While Joe did not disagree with this point, he couldn't help but wonder if everyone deserved it. What about those who ruined others? They had done much worse than kill sometimes. Everlasting scars (both physically and mentally) were not something one wants to carry around the rest of their lives.

He pulled out his cell and with a series of pressed buttons, got to the text messaging screen. Without a single hesitating thought, he punched out, "I'll see you one day." It would be enough for them to understand.

It was only when he pressed "send" that he truly realized what he had agreed to. But he was able to live with it. He had time. Limited, but he had some. And if the lack of outraged emotions or conscience told him anything, it was that he didn't need much of it to understand what he had agreed to.

It had grown on him. The idea of revenge. Vengeance that would spare all but him. But he didn't matter. After all, what was the difference if he continued the job at this point? In the end, it amounted to the same thing to him. Stopping those bad guys and staying with his brother. A few differences in the rules…

Joe couldn't help but wonder what Frank would think once he got the text.

He lost himself to his thoughts before he heard the doorbell rang. A frown cam across his features and his blue eyes darkened. Who could it be? No one had visited them since they moved. In fact, they were so deep in the woods that he wasn't sure if anyone knew that a family was living there. They were dead to friends and enemies alike. So that limited the people to…

"They would have warned us," he reasoned to himself in a whisper. "They probably weren't even caught. It's just a friend of Dad's, I bet."

"Joe." Jackie slowly opened the door, only allowing her head to peak through. "You might want to come down to meet the future enemy."

"Who is…?"

"There's some resemblance to the Gray Man that your dad has a picture of. Probably descendants."

"More that one?"

"An unhappy Claudius and a dead Ophelia. Never to beat King and Knight, but will never realize it."

"We should still greet them. Let them have their illusion." He got up from his spot against the wall underneath the window. With a swift movement, he dropped the lighter into his pocket and made sure the blade attached to his ankle was hidden.

"You chose," Jackie noted.

"It was coming sooner or later. I just made the choice in the end." Joe flashed a smile. "Let's go meet the false king."

The two quickly walked down the steps, and caught the ending of the words directed to Frank at the time. "…nasty business. I'm glad the treatment is helping."

"So am I." A lie that Joe instantly recognized. It wasn't much of a feat, considering that most of the words that came out of his brother's mouth were made for lies, but it gave him a sense that he still knew who Frank was. He lost the old one, but his brother was still there.

"Joe, Jackie," Fenton said as they came into view. "Meet Eugene and Cassandra Gray. Eugene, Cassandra, this is Joe, and this is Jackie."

"Charmed," Jackie said, her eyes glancing at the figures as if looking for hidden details that she could use against them. Joe did the same after gracing each with a nod. If anything, Eugene looked to be a younger version of the man in the picture. There were some differences that the blond assumed to be from the mother, but more or less the man was a carbon copy of Arthur Gray. Cassandra was less so, and instead of taking a confident stance like her brother, she appeared a bit meek. If he could, Joe would have probably laughed after he noticed the gun strapped to her waist. It was a grand contrast, and it was one he thought the two Assassins enjoyed every time they saw her.

"It's something with the Assassins, isn't it?" Joe asked straight out. He didn't feel like dancing around with half truths with these two. Something just felt… off.

Eugene tried to pierce him with a glare, but Joe just stood there for a moment. Realizing that one of them had to break the silence, he sighed. "That was why we were allowed a bit of leeway with the corrupt guys in ATAC. And we assume that Dad would get notice if the second group was captured. It's logic."

His father gave him a look. Not that Joe could blame him. After all, Frank was the logical one.

"Well… yes," Eugene said, flustered. "My fiancée can explain things better. She's more technical."

"She's the one coming up the walk?" Frank asked, using the question to make it sound like he can speak the truth. It was another part of his deception to the world, but Joe found it entertaining if anything.

"Yes. Bethany has the raw data."

Joe cocked his head to the side. Somehow, he got the feeling that the time that he thought he had just got limited even more by that single name.

The woman that walked in had what appeared to be artificial blonde hair and red lips that shone out against her paler complexion. She scanned each of the teens, as if making her own notes. But even the blue eyes didn't deceive Joe. He felt an instant click of something off with the woman. Something… sinister, if he had to label it.

"Wow, you look… older than you probably are," she said with a nervous laugh. "How old are you?"

"Frank's sixteen," Joe supplied, helping the brunette from avoid giving any kind of answer. "Jackie's turning sixteen soon. And I guess I'm the baby."

Fifteen. He had only turned fifteen years old, and his life was becoming one of a killer.

* * *

So many Hamlet references... so little time...


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow, it's been a while. Darn you real life and all the stuff I procrastinate on.**

**Might as well note that the names in the first half aren't traditional names. Codenames between the Assassins are... interesting.**

**And if I don't manage to update before the new year, happy 2011 everyone!**

**Still don't own the Hardy Boys. And enjoy!**

Truth watched as the Board members started to separate after the meeting. The details had already been set down for each of them to follow. It was just a matter of memorization and timing.

"Who are you dealing with?" Giggles asked softly, as if it were a big secret.

"The bitch that started it all for me."

"I thought you said that you had already decided at that point."

"I did. She just gave me a reason to not change my mind at that point. There was only so much Lies and Riddle can push me towards back then. My heart went on and off at times."

"Oh. I heard Lies got Fenton Hardy."

He couldn't help but laugh at the thought. Even if he was haunted by the prospect of his father still existing, he knew that the memory that Lies would carve into the PI's mind would make things better. Of course, that required that the man would wake up from his coma...

"Lies will leave his scar one way or another," he offered as an answer. "He'll carve words into that man's flesh if he had to."

"Such a pretty picture that creates in the mind. Shame that I don't have the time to visit our past friends and do the same." She released a mock sigh. "Well, the day will come soon enough. I expect you two and Wire to accompany me."

"Of course we will. I need to have that overdue talk with your brother, after all." He cracked a grin for her sake. Her brother was nothing like Lies was to him or Forgotten was to Whisper. That in itself could have been dangerous, but with explosives added in... "Who is your target, anyways?"

"I'm accompanying Whisper. She mentioned a reunion with her sister."

"I expect Cassandra to faint. Unless she's planning to kill her..."

"She's like Lies in the thoughts. Scars last longer in terms of pain."

"Really? And what do you think of that, Whisper?" Truth didn't bother turning around to speak to one of the Knights. "I suspect that you take pride in it?"

"Not pride," was the muttered response that he received. "Just evening the pain on the scales."

"Of course. But surely pride must be on that list somewhere. After all, his reputation apparently scares the entire Network agency to some degree."

A blade found a way to his neck in incredible speed. "I am still as deadly."

"But not as known."

"You two make things messier than they should be. They are scared of the pain, not you."

"They can fear their failures through me, then. That way might be better in the end." He cocked his head to the side, allowing his own dreams of their pain fill his head. If the Rooks of the Assassins were known for anything, it was their ability to torture information out of people. Not once had it been heard of the two brothers failing in their quests for knowledge, and Truth could attest to the fact that they had never completely leave empty happy. There were the rare cases where they would have to follow a partial lead, but even then they would eventually success. "So, what do you want anyways? I know it wasn't for my company."

"My brother wants to talk to you."

He almost groaned for the heck of it. He probably wouldn't have without conscious thought after learning how to school his features for years. "Did Riddle talk to him?"

"You know the answer." With one smooth motion, she sheathed the blade and stalked away to her sister-in-law.

Giggles shook her head. "I hope she feels better before the mission. It's tough reading her when she's in a mood."

"We're tough to read to begin with. Including King."

"Don't keep him waiting, then." The Pawn offered him a slight smile before slipping away to socialize with Heartless and Puppet, whom appeared to be in their own version of a heated debate.

His stride was steady and meaningful, which seemed to reflect how he felt about the whole situation. Or rather what he wished to feel about it. If only he was more in tuned with the presence of his father! Why was it that that particular man seemed to have such am effect with him?

"Pawn to E4."

"Cut the bullshit, Forgotten." With a single sweep of the arm, he sent the chessboard spinning off the table and the pieces flying through the air before clattering to the ground. "I know that I'm a liability if I go and Fenton manages to get up and actually do something. Hell, Lies does little to help me calm down and I haven't seen the man in person for seven years."

The man at the other side of the table just gave his usual piercing stare with his light brown eyes. Short hair that matched the eyes (almost like Lies but not quite) seemed to almost bristle at the challenge that Truth brought up. In fact, the older man would have probably brought out either a blade or gun out to shut him up if he was not an Assassin. Instead, he muttered, "It just worries me that you care at all at this point."

"What about Gray? You don't want to deal with the man at all."

"But he won't be at the base. You're at a disadvantage because your father will be there."

"I'm well aware." He sighed in frustration. "If only..."

"Just focus on your target. Lies was given Fenton for a reason."

"Answer me this, then. Why aren't you killing Eugene?"

"The same reason we all pause before we pull the trigger on people we were once convinced to be our family: we share the same blood."

* * *

**7 Years Ago**

Unlike his brother, Joe was paying rapt attention to the words that the two Grays were saying, taking mental notes. A side of his mind was laughing at the reversal of roles for the brothers: after all, was it not supposed to be the other way around?

"This new generation seems to be organized in a completely different way that the original Assassins. I wouldn't be surprised if they just used the name to attract business," Cassandra said. Once again, her seemingly timid appearance made the blond boy want to roar with laughter. He had restrained himself for quite a bit of time already, and he figured he might as well hold out longer and save it once he figured her out. After all, why would someone like her work in law enforcement? With a gun, no less, indicating she was some kind of agent.

_Maybe it was her father,_ he silently mused. _Wouldn't be the first time I heard of a parent forcing their children to follow their dreams._

"They've already made a point of killing in similar ways, though," Eugene countered his sister. It was almost like he was trying to remind her that the Assassins were deadly, which was obviously something that anyone would have realized if they thought about it.

_If this is the opposition, then it's no question to who will win._ "Similar? How many similar ways could there be to killing someone?" he asked, glad that his voice was able to lace in some curiosity.

The man's eyes narrowed at him. "You should already know-"

"We've never dealt with data about the first generation Assassins. How could we compare?"

The blond watched as the face contorted at the sound of the question. He smiled inside, knowing that the other knew he was beat for the time being. The answer came quicker that he expected, but there was still enough of a time delay that revealed that the other wasn't ready for that question. But the answer was still in the critical tone that most of the conversation seemed to be taking. "Fine. To sum it up in layman's terms, the method of choice for quick, painful deaths tend to be around the neck for both groups, as well as the use of the exact same poisons and explosives-"

"But they used a range," Jackie pointed out. "I mean, they had to if they were able to get away with what they did."

"Well, yes." A quick glance to his side told Joe that this guy was still more brain than brawn. It was luck that he had fallen for someone with brains.

Bethany cleared her throat. "Even then, there was some limit to their resources. The fact that they both use chemical compounds that are exactly the same is an indicator, especially since some of them are extremely hard to come by."

He had almost forgotten about the presence of Bethany. There was still something sinister to the woman that he couldn't identify. Something… more to her.

More was always dangerous in the new world he had allowed himself into. It meant an unknown factor that could kill someone who didn't deserve death. It meant that one of them could die. Despite coming to terms with the idea of death from his experiences, the blond would prefer to delay the moment until he was truly ready. But that would mean that he would have to act first.

He might have to kill her in cold blood to stop that chance.

Already the idea was leaving a bitter taste. He had agreed to join the Assassins with a somewhat eased conscience. The only blood to be spilled was those of corrupted men and women. Not the innocent. Well, at least, the innocent who were avoidable. It wasn't an idealistic world, and he already knew he could not simply hope for the best. If people like the Network agents got in their way, it was sometimes necessary for their lives to end. The way the world worked was a fickle at times, but one that had to be dealt with.

"Is there a possibility that they had been a sleeping generation of Assassins?" Jackie asked. "If they are really another generation, it would explain why they structure themselves differently while using the same methods of killing."

"But would a group really go so far to do that?" Joe countered. "Waiting so long to show up, I mean. It's been, what, a really long time since the original group was around?"

"About twenty years," Eugene said with a frown. It's possible that not all of the mentors were caught in the aftermath. Between the amount of people and the time given, it would be enough to train a small army."

"So, they could possibly have enough people to recreate the full force of the Assassins?" Joe's face masked the surprise that he felt for hearing his brother talk. Within another second, he realized that it was still part of the brunette's façade. If Frank looked to be engaging in the conversation, the three people would not notice that he really wasn't paying any attention. It saved them the need for false explanations that Jackie would have to supply.

Eugene's eyes widened, as if he hadn't considered the idea at all before. Joe's opinion of the man dropped even further. Had none of them considered this possibility? If they believed that there were enough people in the new group to be a threat, they should have noticed that this was a possibility…

Bethany saved her fiancé from the embarrassment. "Despite the threat that they can pose, we feel as if there is not enough manpower to completely revive their power. If we let them go on for long enough, however, they might."

"Who is this 'we'?" Jackie asked. "You never clearly mentioned what the group of opposition is."

"The FBI said that they were heading it when our… situation occurred," Joe offered. "Are they creating a specialized task force within or something?"

Cassandra allowed herself to smile. "We're bringing back the Network."

The blond nodded slowly, masking the sudden fury of emotions that coursed through him. Already, they were reassembling the group? The Assassins of this generation had only worked within the nation at this point. Were they still a threat internationally at this point? Enough to drag others from all corners of the world to assist with the Network? And even if the force was limited to the states, that would still be quite a bit of resources for them to draw on.

"Has it been approved?" he asked, a frown etching itself onto his face.

"Why would you care?" Eugene suddenly snapped at the teenager. Fenton (who had almost melted into the background) cast a curious look onto his youngest son, which in turn enraged the blond. If his father had actually cared, he would have glared at the man for suddenly snapping at his son. But Fenton didn't trust killers. Even blood within veins could not ignore the blood on the hands.

"It's a valid question," Frank countered. Despite showing no signed, Joe knew that it hurt his brother deep down for speaking some form of the truth. Guilt formed in his own heart with the knowledge. "I'm curious myself to know. It has been a long time since the Assassins have posed a threat to security, so did the officials think that this generation was less of a threat than before?"

"It has happened before," Jackie added, almost whispering the short sentence. "It has led to the downfall of many things before."

Eugene seemed to falter under the support of the Hardy siblings. His posture, while not suffering, no longer held any meaning to the three teenagers. Cassandra, on the other hand, had triumph dancing in her eyes at the suffering of her brother. It made Joe wonder how much of the true hatred between the siblings that Forgotten seemed to mention.

As the woman explained the recognition of the threat, the blond tuned the words out in favor for his own thoughts. It was at times like these where he appreciated the bond between him, Frank, and even Jackie at that point. They could read each other well enough that words were not needed. Even if words were needed, there was enough between the trio that they would not tear at each other's throats the way the Grays did. From what little Forgotten had said the blond had only imagined a sibling rivalry gone too deep. After meeting Eugene and Cassandra, the idea molded into one following another out of respect that was really fear. But that single moment told him that there was more to Forgotten's words and Whisper's silence. Some twisted form of hatred disguised as deep sibling rivalry ran through their blood.

If Joe didn't have the same exposure to the world and minds of men as he had gained through his life of solving crimes, he was certain that he would not have been able to grasp the understanding.

These siblings would not sacrifice their world for the other. Not the way that Frank gave up his own innocence (the kind that marked the difference of a person who had never killed to one who had) for Joe. They had not spun elaborate lies and sacrificed so much to keep the other alive and living comfortably. They were so far apart that even the Assassins seemed like the ideal cozy family compared to them.

_Maybe the Assassins are a better family than most,_ the blond mused as his attention fell back to the people around him. _After all, how much have each of them given up for someone among them?_

Then again (and Joe was vaguely aware of this truth) he had no model family that he could compare his life to. The ideal family, in itself, was a lie that took in too many truths. He could say it about all of society, but that wasn't his care for the moment. How much of the idea of a perfect family was made with multiple truths that worked? Everything had some sort of flaw in it, whether realized or not. But if one ignored that simple truth…

If only lies spoke their own truths instead of letting others find them. After all, Joe was certain that if they did Fenton would have offered the parental figure that they needed. Frank and Joe might have been able to avoid the path of killing and secretly becoming Assassins altogether.

Of course, it was all speculation in the end. How much truth could he draw from fantasies, anyways?

**If the Assassins are a better family for the Hardy siblings than the one they are in, that isn't a good thing...**


End file.
